In the long run
by saxyplaya3
Summary: Sam has made mistakes, but should he even fix them? Rate M for future content -Reviews and criticism welcome, formatting will be fixed in upcoming updates.


CHAPTER ONE

He was on his second pack of the evening when soft knocking broke the silence. He groaned almost as much as his knees did, hypnotically rising out of the chair. Bleary eyed he cracked the door to find a thin brunette waiting arms crossed in the glaring neon glow of the evening.

"Ruth?" he blustered, a tightness taking hold of his chest.

But that feeling dies almost as fast as it had been born, it's Justine. She pushes past him with a confused - almost glaring look and stomps off to the guest- her bedroom.

With an eye roll and a sigh he slinks back to his chair where the smoke still curls up from the smoldering cigarette in the ashtray. Fuckin' kids man Taking a drag he recalls the events of the day and tries to figure out how he fucked up so bad, so fast.

* * *

The cheerful sounds of the TV do nothing to drown out the echoes of Sam screaming at her this afternoon. Sheila happily chirps away to Jeopardy while Ruth is suffering through the back to back replays of today. Everytime it gets to the part where she looks to Sam for the congratulations she expected, the replay slows down and she gets to see the raw anger boil up inside him. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to forget it.

Looking back she still doesn't know where she went wrong. She was only trying to lighten the load and bring up the morale of the girls. Now, not only was she in the dog house- again, they were down one actress. As always, Ruth, one step forward - two steps back.

She rubs her temples and jumps out of bed. Stepping into the breezy warm evening, the buzz of the vending machine calls to her. She grabs a grape soda and finds a dark spot to sip and shed a tear in peace.

* * *

Pulling up to the parking lot, he honestly couldn't recall how he got there, he spots movement in the darkness as he coasts to a stop on the road just outside the motel. The garish sign casting an orange glow through the stale air. Flicking off the headlights he just sits there. Staring. Powerless. He notices the can in her hand as she raises it to her lips. She rubs her tired face…. No, she's wiping away a tear he realizes. He wonders if he's the cause. Who the fuck are you kidding you asshole, of course you're the cause. He turns away, knowing he doesn't deserve to witness this moment of vulnerability. Glaring into the glow of the radio he goes back to that day. To another time when he felt powerless in front of her. He remembers sitting with her in the car at a red light. She was putting on a brave face but he knew she was in pain. He was trying desperately to lighten the mood. Joke after joke fell embarrassingly flat but she smiled every time and he was just in awe of her. She was being so strong and dealing with something so beyond painful, alone. He was finally at a total loss for words when she put her hand lightly on his and pointed out the donut shop they were looking for, it was four blocks away in LA traffic. He didn't take his hand away, letting her delicate fingers ground him while his heart was beating a hole right through his sternum. When he pulled in to park she still hadn't taken her hand away, she had drifted off to sleep. Only then, in the warm afternoon light did he notice how tired she had really become. Gone, was the endlessly optimistic and energetic young girl. Replaced by a realist who could take every punch with a smile and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Too bad you're a fucking piece of shit, then, huh? His mind was a raging shit storm. He knew he was into her and he was also fucking it up, bad. This would have to make a new record. Usually, he at least got to have sex before his ability to fuck up every good thing he'd ever had reared its ugly face. His mind wandered back to the beginning, when he first met Ruth. God she was annoying She still was, he mused. But it had taken on a different meaning to him now. He still squints and shakes his head for every bonehead pitch she makes, but gone is the bubbling hatred in his gut when he hears her voice, replaced by electricity at the briefest whiff of her scent. A mix of fierce desperation and confidence like he had never seen before peeking out behind her strawberry shampoo.

He had never noticed the strawberry shampoo before that afternoon in the parking lot. He let the car idle so as not to wake her. They sat like that for thirty four minutes. His hand nestled under her tiny grasp. She was cool to the touch he noted, turning off the a/c. At first he felt wrong for staring at her while she dozed. Like he was violating her in some way. So he stared at anything but her, only to find his focus drawn back like a sailor to a siren's call. He noted how softly she breathed, and how relaxed the creases around her eyes became. She looked almost as young as she actually was when she was this peaceful. It had hurt him when he realized he was a big cause of the enormous amount of unnecessary stress she was living through. Everyone has to work shit jobs, for shit bosses, with people they can't get along with and everybody makes mistakes. But he couldn't recall anyone he knew ever having to have suffered as much and for as long as she has for her mistakes. When she finally stirred from her slumber he flicked the car off pretending they had just arrived. She smiles weakly as he opens the door for her and they step into the cooled donut shop.

"Pink donut, coming right up"


End file.
